AChomikow



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    It is dark. The sun had set hours ago, leaving only the bright end of the lieutenant’s cigarette in its wake. You finished your own smoke already, having sucked it down to the quick almost immediately. 

    HALF LIGHT: You do that to everything. Consume it, destroy it, leave nothing after.

    VOLITION: Snap out of it.

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    16 Feb 2026

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    It can’t be deliberate, of course. It’s a flagrant breach of protocol. Not something Kim Kitsuragi would do without good reason, and you are not that.

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    16 Feb 2026

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    YOU — You fidget with your fingers for a moment, and then look back at him. “Are you okay, Kim?”

    PERCEPTION [Easy: Success] — He blinks twice, surprised. Then he looks away, turning his gaze to the violet and blue sky.

    EMPATHY [Medium: Success] — He feels uncomfortable, sometimes, having such raw concern and sincerity pouring out from you with only him as recipient. You’re… intense, on a good day.

    KIM KITSURAGI — “I’m alright,” he says. His fingers twitch, like he’s itching for a cigarette. “It’s been… a long week.”

    ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Trivial: Failure] — Oh, it’s been long, and it’s been hard. Makes you itch for the neck of a bottle in your hand, neurotransmitters firing wild, fireworks behind your eyes.

    (or; Kim has a rough week. Harry helps, in his own way.)

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    16 Feb 2026

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    His thumb traces slow circles around the nub of bone in your wrist.

    “Kim?"

    He pulls his hand back. “I’m sorry, I’ve been drinking.” He smiles. His pupils are dilated and the warmth coming off of him is feverish and so tempting.

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    16 Feb 2026

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    "See? I just knew it," Hans says, poking Henry's chest. "I knew you’d be too damn hairy. Look at all this. You're practically a barbarian."

    Henry's snort is fond when it leaves his lungs, more exhale than sound. "You're hairy too," he offers graciously, flicking his eyes down a pale chest. His memory conjures up images of blond tufts—darkened with water, clustered beneath a navel, peeking coyly from under an armpit—before he banishes them. "It's just hard to see on your arms and legs, cause your hair is so fine. It makes your skin look soft," he adds, crazily, airing a thought that should have been kept barred and bolted.

    "Do you think about my skin often, blacksmith's boy?"

    "No." Henry is distracted; Hans's finger is twisting around his chest hair, an entirely new sensation for Henry's body. His spine tingles. "Maybe. I dunno."

    Hans keeps insisting that Henry share his bed. A very normal and platonic thing to do.

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    05 Feb 2026

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